


The Vest

by the_space_between1013



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl needs more smut, F/M, caryl drabble, caryl smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9175687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_space_between1013/pseuds/the_space_between1013
Summary: Daryl's trying to find his vest. He finds it alright. On Carol.





	

 

The inside is soft, the leather supple, but considering she’s been wearing it now for over an hour waiting for him to find her, it’s starting to chafe at her nipples. Carol shifts slightly on the bed to alleviate the soreness and only causes the sensitive peaks to perk up even more.  _Jesus, Daryl, where ar—_

“Carol, have you seen m—“ The door to their room swings open, banging hard against the wall and Daryl’s question gets strangled in his throat at the sight that is in front of him. Carol. In front of him. His vest. He’s found his vest.

His thoughts are completed fragmented, no wonder considering the view he beholds. Carol is wearing his black leather vest.

_Only_ his black leather vest.

Her golden skin is warm and smooth looking and his hands itch to stroke down her curvaceous sides and around to the ass that would fit so very nicely cupped in them. “My vest,” he finally completes, pushing past the Sahara that has developed in his throat.

“Mmmm, yes,” she murmurs, drawing near, reaching up to tug at his collar. “It’s right here.”

Daryl’s eyes are drawn down, down, down. The vest should be big, it should be bulky on her smaller frame, but it fits beautifully. Because it frames her gorgeous breasts, which peek out the middle, the curves luring his eyes. Down. And below. To where he can clearly see she’s been waiting for him, all soft and warm and wanting. And he has to swallow around the mouthful of saliva at the thought of tasting all that lovely and sweet cream. “I need my vest. Goin’ on a run,” he says stupidly, mind completely short-circuited.

“Here you go,” Carol says and he hazily detects a note of lust in her voice, tone low and husky, and he watches as she shrugs out of it. And then it’s on the ground and she’s practically in his arms, naked and soft.

“Aaron and the run can wait,” Daryl mutters and picks her up, strides across the little room to the bed and deposits her on her back, registering her little squeal. One hand steals up to her breast, tweaking a peaked and aching nipple, his head dipping down for a nip at its twin, other hand snaking down to cup and spread the slick lips below, stroking and pressing in deeply.  “A man’s gotta eat,” and heads south. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
